#editingprogress
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lenoreemerald.bsky.social
Almost there!

😺Finally. I'll get unlimited pets soon.
--Supervisor Teyla

#booksky #writingcommunity #editingprogress
September 12, 2026 at 8:32 PM
tokki-yoizzz.bsky.social
Almost finished yoizzz

#Blender #Blender2D #editingprogress
December 9, 2024 at 4:20 AM
midnightrose838.bsky.social
#Editingprogress

Current version vs a year ago.

Almost 40 words cut out of less than 300
I think it's somewhat easier to read.

New on left
Old on right

This is the easiest of the mess I've been dealing with.😅
Lawcket curled farther in on himself, remembering what might as well have been his Mom's last words to him. “Lawcket, I hate you– I don't love you, if you do this.” His body quaked against the cold hard floor. It hurt so much that his own Mom had said those words to him. He was rejected, and he'd never be able to make up. Gradually the pain faded, leaving him cold and numb both in emotion and body. He wanted a blanket to curl himself up in as protection from the cold hard floor– as comfort itself– anything . . . even if it wouldn't keep him warm. But that was a comfort he had not had in a long time, though he felt he needed it now more than ever. As he drifted near the edge of sleep, too sad for anything but sleep yet too cold to fall into true sleep, his thoughts wandered all the way back to the happy things his life had been, as though he might be given sleep's release through his memories. He drifted away– to collecting ripe corn in the sunlit garden, almost too full to want another bite but wondering if that rich gold was worth another mouthful– to sleeping curled in blankets so thick and soft that nothing could be more comfortable– to lying on the meadow grass while baby goats frolicked about, sometimes stopping to chew his hair and clothes, or jumping onto him a little harder than was comfortable. Lawcket curled farther in on himself, remembering what might as well have been his mom’s last words to him. “Lawcket, I hate you- I don't love you, if you do this.” He tried to hug himself as he sobbed in his own pain, his body quaking against the cold hard floor. It hurt so much that his own mom had said those words to him. He was rejected and he’d never be able to make up. Gradually the pain faded leaving him cold and numb, both in emotion and body. He wanted a blanket to curl himself up in as protection from the cold hard floor, and as comfort of itself– anything– even if it wouldn’t quite get him warm– but that was a comfort he had not had in a long time, though he felt he needed it now more than ever. As he drifted near the edge of sleep, too sad for anything but sleep, but too cold to fall into true sleep, his thoughts eventually wondered all the way back to the happy things his life had been made out of. His mind rolled through pleasant memories, almost as though he were dreaming, trying to find sleep in his memories for the present was too miserable to give into its release. He drifted away– to collecting ripe corn in the warm sunlit garden, almost too full to want another bite, but wondering if that rich golden corn was worth another mouthful– to sleeping curled in blankets so thick and soft that nothing could be more comfortable– to lying on the sunlit grass while baby goats frolicked about, sometimes stopping to chew his hair or clothes, or sometimes jumping onto him a little harder than was quite comfortable.
September 15, 2026 at 9:08 PM